


The Scariest Haunted House in the World

by phoenix_writing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:47:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21879109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_writing/pseuds/phoenix_writing
Summary: Aurors Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are sent to a carnival to investigate reports that someone might have been messing with the Muggles there.  Draco is decidedly unimpressed, while Harry is excited by the festivities.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 64





	The Scariest Haunted House in the World

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place post-Deathly Hallows without the epilogue and pretty much discarding everything we learn about the future from the Epilogue and Cursed Child. There’s a little bit of swearing. I’m not sure the UK actually has carnivals like this (I’m really pulling from North American versions), but let’s pretend!

~*~

“This is, hands down, the most demeaning thing that I have ever had to do.”

Malfoy sounded genuinely disgruntled, but Harry couldn’t help but grin.

“Cheer up, Malfoy. It’s not every day that we get paid to have fun.”

“Thank goodness,” Malfoy muttered, still not sounding the slightest bit reconciled to their current assignment.

“Think of it like a holiday,” Harry tried.

“I assure you, Potter,” Malfoy snapped, “that this in no way resembles any holiday that I have ever taken or will ever take.”

Harry sighed. While getting paired up with Malfoy in the Auror Department had somehow turned out to be less of an unmitigated disaster than most people had predicted, it was still frequently obvious that they didn’t have very much in common and didn’t look at the world the same way. And sure, that could be useful for some investigations, but sometimes … sometimes, it was just really frustrating.

Carefully, Harry said, “Let’s just look around, yeah? Confirm if there’s anything we need to be concerned about.”

“Fine,” Malfoy said shortly.

The reports were vague enough that they weren’t even certain that someone was messing with Muggles, but there’d been a half dozen disturbances which were _suggestive_ , and the Ministry preferred to play it safe these days and track rumours to their source.

Harry paid the entry fee and for a strip of tickets for both of them, not about to suggest that Malfoy deal with Muggle money in the mood he was in, though he knew the man was perfectly capable. Being able to blend in was essential to an Auror’s investigations.

They strolled through the grounds, Harry’s eyes darting everywhere as he took in the bright lights, the variety of tents, the stalls with games and a very loud array of hawkers competing with one another as they tried to attract potential customers for games, food, and drink. Everyone was eating candied apples, candy floss, popcorn, hot dogs, pasties and every other sort of reasonably hand-held food. Children were yelling gleefully, adults were trying to impress significant others or their friends at ring toss, balloon darts, whack-a-mole, rubber ducky races, and every conceivable manner of carnival game.

The strip of tickets was burning a hole in Harry’s pocket, but there was no evidence that any of the games were magically rigged, no particularly outlandish outrage on the part of any patrons, and no “ping” on Harry’s magical senses, nothing that seemed to pull him unnaturally towards any game in particular, no sense that anything was wrong.

“We’d better check out the individual attractions,” Harry said, trying not to sound as pleased as he was.

Malfoy sighed.

_~*~_

“You have got to be kidding me,” Draco said, shooting Potter a look of disdain.

Potter, as per usual, had zero sense of dignity and a rubbish sense of humour. He was still grinning at Draco.

Draco looked at the glittering letters one last time, feeling slightly nauseated as he passed into the tent: _Magic Show._

As Draco had predicted, there wasn’t anything the least bit magical about the show, but the audience seemed to be constantly awed by the sleights of hand and special effects. And all right, if he were being generous, there was an occasion or two where the illusion was quite good, but—

“Why would anyone _want_ to pull a rabbit out of their hat, Potter?”

Potter just laughed, as though Draco’s question had been a joke.

The crystal ball and palm reading were utter nonsense, no surprise there.

Potter let out a sigh of relief as they left the tent. Draco eyed him.

“You didn’t expect any of that nonsense to be true, did you?”

Potter shrugged. “I certainly hoped not. But once you’ve had someone accurately predict the return of Voldemort to your face and tell a prophecy that made Voldemort hunt down and kill your family and try to kill you, you don’t take anything for granted.”

Draco swallowed and decided, on balance, not to go there. They’d achieved an oddly amicable working relationship, but they weren’t _friends_ , and there were definitely topics that they avoided.

Thankfully, Potter seemed to shake off his introspective mood, dragging Draco off to more “attractions”.

Apart from the fact that it seemed to offer definitive proof that Muggles were insane, there was nothing unusual about the sword swallowing, the fire breathing, or the knife-throwing.

The Mirror Hall clearly appealed only to idiots like Potter who liked to giggle at their distorted mirror image.

“I don’t see a difference,” Draco said deliberately as they stood in front of a mirror that made Potter look even shorter than normal.

Potter just snorted with laughter.

Back outside, it took a moment for Draco’s eyes to readjust to the garish lighting, but Potter was already towing him to the next attraction, another huge grin on his face.

 _Scariest Haunted House in the World_ the sign proclaimed.

“Divide and conquer,” Draco said firmly, gesturing to the ride that said _Tunnel of Love_.

“Scared, Malfoy?” Potter asked.

Draco just rolled his eyes.

“Suit yourself,” Potter said with a shrug, and headed off to his ride. Draco shook his head as he made his way to the _Tunnel of Love_ , wondering if Potter had really thought that they were going to ride _that_ ride together or if, as per usual, he simply hadn’t thought that far ahead.

A quick befuddlement charm ensured that Draco got a carriage to himself, and seven minutes of tacky music and “mood lighting” later assured him that there was absolutely nothing of interest going on in the _Tunnel of Love_ —certainly not if you were in there by yourself. Draco wasn’t certain why people would _pay_ to get a dark area to snog, but he supposed that when you were young enough, any excuse was a good one.

Potter still wasn’t back from the Haunted House, so Draco strolled around for a few minutes and treated himself to some candy floss when Potter couldn’t mock him for his sweet tooth.

It was just occurring to him that Potter had surely been gone for longer than he should have been when he caught sight of the other man in a shadowy corner near the exit of the Haunted House. Draco strode over to him, annoyed. Surely, Potter had known that Draco would be looking for him?

His angry diatribe died before it was born as he got a good look at the other man. Potter was white as parchment. He looked like he’d seen the Dark Lord rise again.

“Potter,” Draco said, trying and failing not to sound alarmed. His wand was in his hand. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

It took Potter a minute to find his voice.

“That was terrifying.”

Draco stared at Potter, waiting for the _actual_ answer until he realised that not only was that all that Potter was going to say, he looked like he meant it, no trace of the teasing or good humour that had characterised this visit so far.

“Potter,” Draco said slowly, waiting until the other man’s haunted eyes met his, “you were nearly killed by a basilisk when you were twelve. You spent time at the Shrieking Shack _for fun_. You faced the Dark Lord a half dozen times. You survived the Killing Curse—twice. _What_ did you just say about that Haunted House?”

Potter opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again. A furrow appeared in his brow, and Draco watched as the terrible blankness in his eyes finally gave way to focus, confusion, and then … awareness.

“Shit,” he mumbled.

Draco didn’t even bother to chastise him. “Let’s go.”

~*~

Harry felt like a complete idiot, and he could only be grateful that Malfoy hadn’t taken the opportunity to mock him. Even if he did it later, Harry knew that it would be fully deserved, but he was still shaking off the vestiges of a terror that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t realised was unnatural.

Malfoy and Harry sat in a carriage together, both with their wands in their hands the moment the carriage carried them inside. It was all the way Harry remembered, a spooky soundtrack, eerie lighting, overblown Halloween-style props. Malfoy jumped as the first prop axe swung out of the darkness seeming like it was coming straight for them, and Harry laughed.

“Shut it,” Malfoy growled.

Harry tried to control his laughter. Malfoy hadn’t laughed at _Harry_ , though Harry clearly deserved it. Honestly, it was more relief at this point, at the standard scare tactics and the fact that there wasn’t anything remotely magical about what was happening.

Malfoy jumped three more times in quick succession, at the bats, the trapdoor and spare body parts, and the fake cobwebs brushing over his head, and Harry bit his lip ruthlessly and didn’t let himself laugh.

“I swear to God, Potter,” Malfoy gritted out, “if you made this up, I’m going to make you regret it.”

Still remembering the helpless feeling of terror that had trapped him, Harry rather wished that this had been the best prank ever.

“Maybe it doesn’t happen every time,” Harry suggested.

That would actually make sense, reducing the chance that anyone would say anything.

Malfoy shot him a look, like he really did think that Harry had feigned terror.

The cheap thrills continued, mostly designed to startle, and continuing to make Malfoy jump. Harry was too tense to be startled at this point. He didn’t care about a vampire swooping towards them; he wanted to know what had made him feel truly terrified.

And then, just when Harry was certain that nothing was going to happen and Malfoy was probably never going to talk to him again, the other man went completely rigid at his side, his breath caught on a sharp inhale.

Harry threw up a shield charm and tried an _Expelliarmus_ , but there was no evidence of another person. He tried a _Finite Incantatem_ next, and then leapt out of the still slowly moving carriage and set about looking for an object that didn’t belong. If someone wasn’t casting, then it was most likely a cursed object that was causing this. You had to touch most cursed objects, but that seemed unlikely in this particular context. Harry tried to recall everything he’d ever learnt—or Hermione had ever told him—about cursed objects in a hurry. There was something….

He straightened.

There were a few rarer cursed objects that affected the victim when they _saw_ the object. 

Harry started on Malfoy’s side of the carriage, keeping his shield charm in place as he scanned the room at eye level and finally saw the small bat whose eyes glowed with a light that he didn’t think was caused by any Muggle artifice. He did a quick check for additional hexes, then conjured a cloth, threw it over the bat as he yanked it from the wall, and leaped back into the still-moving carriage just before it moved out of the room. Malfoy was breathing heavily at his side and seemed scarcely to have realised that Harry had moved at all.

“Malfoy,” Harry said carefully. “It’s all right. We got it.”

It was like the other man didn’t even hear him. Harry set a hand on his arm and squeezed.

“Draco, you’re all right. You’re an Auror, remember. This is a _Muggle_ haunted house. You’re not going to let it get to you, are you?”

Malfoy blinked, shuddered, and finally seemed to focus on Harry. It took a moment, but then his face twisted to a look of disdain that was almost believable.

“Please, Potter. As if anything at this carnival is worth my time.”

Harry grinned at him, too relieved to be insulted. Malfoy’s eyes fell to the cloth-covered bundle in Harry’s hands.

“Is that it?”

Harry hummed a noise of agreement. “Seems to be activated by sight. And I think it taps into your memories of fear.”

Malfoy drew a breath, let it out, and said carefully, “So reactions vary person to person.”

Harry agreed, “And you’re scared by things that scare you.”

“That’s quite clever, really,” Malfoy said, sounding more and more like his normal self.

The ride came to an end after another minute or so, allowing people enough time to rouse but to still be caught up in the remembered terror. Harry and Malfoy marched right over to the operator, a spotty-faced youth who couldn’t be over eighteen or nineteen. The dark-haired young man looked at them and Harry’s cloth-covered bundle with enough of an “Oh, shit,” look on his face that they knew they’d found the culprit. When he saw the wands, he blanched and squinched his eyes shut.

“Please don’t hurt me.”

Harry and Malfoy exchanged glances.

“Muggle or Squib?” Harry asked.

One eye opened, and when he saw that they weren’t about to curse him right there, the other eye opened as well. His shoulders were hunched.

“Muggle.”

“What’s your name?” Harry asked.

“Simon Jameson.”

Malfoy bit the word out with icy hauteur: “Explain.”

Simon’s shoulders hunched further and he babbled, “Everybody was making fun of the ride! I really needed this job, and I told them I could make it a star attraction. My cousin said it would help, and it really did work, and most people were so impressed with how scary it was, so it didn’t matter if occasionally people didn’t seem affected, and it was just so useful, and I didn’t think it would hurt anyone!”

This last was yelped, probably since Harry and Malfoy were both glaring at him.

“It’s illegal to use cursed objects on Muggles,” Harry explained to him, “not to mention unethical to make them relive their worst fears.”

The kid looked aghast. “Relive their worst fears?”

Malfoy nodded grimly. “That’s how the object made the ride seem scary for everyone. Each person who looked at it relived the scariest thing they’d ever experienced.”

Harry took over. “So if they didn’t see it, they experienced a normal haunted house. If they didn’t have much that scared them in their lives, there was no big boost of fear.”

Malfoy’s voice was hard as diamonds. “But if they’re the Saviour of the Wizarding World who went up against Voldemort a dozen times…?”

Simon’s eyes fastened on Harry’s forehead, his eyes blown wide, his pupils huge.

“Oh, my God,” he muttered, looking stricken.

Harry shot Malfoy a look and narrowly resisted giving the example of a former Death Eater who’d killed Dumbledore if they were talking about being scared out of their wits. That would be petty, and this wasn’t a contest. Harry knew full well that that night had featured prominently in his own feelings of terror—and blame.

Carefully, Harry said instead, “Or if they’re someone suffering from PTSD, someone who’s had something truly traumatic happen in their life? This could negatively affect a lot of people.”

“We’ll need your cousin’s name,” Malfoy said sternly.

The wide eyes grew wider. “Oh, I couldn’t—”

Harry nailed him with his very best glare. “Now.”

Simon squeaked, resisted for three seconds, and then caved and blurted out his cousin’s name.

When the kid wasn’t looking, Malfoy’s expression was one of amusement, as it always was when Harry played bad cop. Harry barely resisted sticking out his tongue at him.

“This is a chargeable offence,” Malfoy told Simon sternly.

The colour drained from the young man’s face, leaving him pasty white once again.

“Oh, I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong!” Simon protested.

Harry levelled him with another stern look.

The young man gulped. “I—I should have known better. I’m sorry.”

Harry let the silence build for a long moment, and then he said, “Since this is a first offence, as long as we have your word that you will _never_ dabble in anything magical again, we can let you off with a warning.”

Simon babbled again, assuring them that he wouldn’t even _talk_ to his cousin ever again, and while Harry suspected _that_ was a bit of an exaggeration, he thought it unlikely that the kid would mess with the wizarding world in the future.

“Make sure we never have cause to see you again,” Malfoy said sternly.

Simon nodded feverishly. “Absolutely. I promise.”

Harry pinned him with one more stern stare, knowing that Malfoy was doing the same, and then they turned and walked away.

“Time for the cousin?” Harry said, looking down at the covered statue in his hand and wondering if the kid’s cousin was equally naive or if this had been deliberate mischief.

Malfoy was silent for an extra long moment, and then he said, “Harry, would you like to go on the Ferris wheel?”

Harry stared at Malfoy. The man had just called him _Harry_. They’d neutralised the threat here at the carnival, Malfoy had hated every minute of this, and yet he was offering to _prolong his torture_. Because Harry was enjoying himself, or at least had been before that stupid curse?

Malfoy cleared his throat and said with a voice of studied nonchalance, “We still have a few tickets left. It would be a shame to waste them.”

Harry grinned at him, delighted, not believing for a minute that Malfoy cared about the money the Ministry had spent on this investigation. “I’d love to.”

Malfoy smiled back, a small grin, but surprisingly open, and Harry had the sudden thought that this really was going to work out after all.

~*~

_Finite incantatem_


End file.
